Even Disasters

Even disasters
wear white &
turn to honey.

A hive of bad hair
days swarms
inside me. Doom

is lessened out
of the public eye.

The welts, at least
won’t show. Dressed
to the nines & too sweet

in the mouth. What
did he mumble?

Something
about insects
garnishing the frosting?

A baby
buried somewhere
inside the cake.